Faded Blue
by Lady Eldaria
Summary: The life of Fushimi Saruhiko. "If there was a mortal man alive who could understand him completely, he ought to be awarded something. But maybe a look into his life might offer us a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind. It isn't a pretty story. But then again, the best ones never are." [Eventual MiSaru, SaruMi, and ReiSaru, no prizes for guessing which one wins in the end.]
1. Prologue

**1**

**Prologue**

If there was a mortal man alive who could understand Fushimi Saruhiko completely, he ought to be awarded something.

I suppose the problem lies in the fact that Fushimi is not the kind of person who likes to express himself in words. It could be because he thinks he's above everyone else. Or maybe it's the other way around – maybe he thinks _he_ isn't good enough for other people. Now that I think about it, that is the number one problem I was faced with when I studied him – his contradictions. Does he suffer from inferiority or superiority complex? Is he a masochist or a sadist? Does he love Yata Misaki or does he hate him?

I guess no one can really know the answer. But maybe a look into his life might offer us a glimpse of the inner workings of his mind.

It isn't a pretty story. But then again, the best ones never are.

– _Compiled by Dr. L. Eldaria, Self-Proclaimed Psychologist and Author (and maybe Fushimi Saruhiko's personal biographer), for the FanFiction archives. _

**Disclaimer: **The doctor does not own anything related to Fushimi Saruhiko and the universe he lives in. Heck, she does not even own the right to publish this thing. If Fushimi Saruhiko shows up demanding a lawsuit against her for libel please let him know she's vacationing in the Bahamas and will get back to him in another lifetime. Thank you.


	2. Happy Rebirth-Day

**2**

**Happy Rebirth-Day**

The morning of November 7th, 1993.

It was cold; so cold that it seemed waving an ice-pick through the air would have probably shattered it into a million pieces. It was almost like winter had decided to show up early just so it could witness the miracle that was about to happen.

The birth of someone who was supposed to be dead.

"I'm not…I'm not making a mistake," said the young woman with the cold, blue eyes, more to herself than to the nurse who was prepping her. "It's _my _body. I can do whatever I want."

The old nurse nodded, used to having this conversation. Sometimes she was tempted to look into the eyes of the young ladies that walked in and to ask them whether anyone had ever considered that maybe the little ones had a choice in the matter as well. But then again, if she had said that then she'd have been fired. Even worse, the doctor who would perform the…_procedure_ would convince those young ladies that _it_ was just _non-viable tissue_. And non-viable tissue wasn't entitled to having an opinion.

"I'm not making a mistake," the girl whispered again. It was pitiful, really. She was barely fifteen. A baby, having a baby.

"Right this way, miss," was the only reply she received.

About halfway through, something must have gone wrong. The old nurse knew it from the expression on the doctor's face, and from the unusually large amount of blood on the clean, white sheets.

The girl must have sensed it too, because even though she was supposed to be unconscious, she suddenly drew in a breath. "W-What is it? Doctor, what's wrong?"

More anesthesia was immediately administered. The girl went under again.

It took about three hours for her to open her eyes, and when she did she was told what had happened.

It was a first for that particular hospital. The doctor assured her it had never happened before. Not once, not in his entire lifetime, had he ever failed to perform an abortion.

* * *

"It's a boy," the old nurse announced, carrying the baby, 24 weeks premature, to his mother, where she lay crying on a hospital bed. "A beautiful, baby boy, miss." _Not non-viable tissue, _she mentally added.

But the girl only snarled at her. "Take that thing away. I don't want to see it!"

The old nurse narrowed her eyes, both in sympathy and in anger. "_Him_, miss. A boy. Not a thing."

"It's an ugly little _thing _to me!" the girl snapped. "It will ruin my life! I have to go to school! I have to get a career! I can't become a mother, I just can't!"

_Maybe you should have thought about that before you jumped into bed with a random stranger with no protection or prevention, _the nurse was tempted to say, but hurriedly bit back her tongue. "Won't you at least name him?"

"No," the girl seethed, harshly. "Go dump him in an orphanage somewhere, or put him down or something. I don't care."

The old nurse nodded. It would do her no good to get too attached to her patients, she knew that. So she simply nodded. "Very well, miss."

* * *

And so it was that a nameless, weak little baby found himself cared for in a hospital full of strangers and then tossed into an orphanage equally full of strangers as soon as he could breathe without the help of any machines. "Being born this premature and with such a traumatic delivery, he will suffer from several physical and emotional illnesses in the future," the warden of the foster home was told as soon as she held the tiny little thing in her arms. He was barely as big as her fist. "It's a miracle he doesn't have any deformities. Will you name him?"

"Of course," the woman nodded. "What was his mother's last name?"

The doctor shook his head in reply. "I'm afraid she asked us not to disclose it. His birth certificate was signed by his nurse. You'll have to use the regular procedure."

The warden shrugged a little casually, carrying the baby away. By "the regular procedure", the doctor had, of course, meant the one that the orphanage used to choose names for abandoned children – babies found in the trash and stuff like that, the ones whose parents' identities were unknown.

Fushimi Saruhiko, was what the system came up with, neither name _really _belonging to him.

* * *

**Reviews are welcome!**


	3. The Ones with Big Hearts

Someday, several years into the future, Fushimi Saruhiko would be known to say that he _hated _people with big hearts.

Many would question why.

Well, one could cite any number of instances to prove how they psychologically affected the boy into harboring such a twisted philosophy, but I suppose the most significant one would be the day he turned seven…

**3**

**The Ones with Big Hearts**

The older kids in the orphanage were never very nice to the little ones to begin with, but Houki-senpai definitely had it out for Saruhiko.

He supposed it was because a few of the visitors and prospective parents had remarked that he was very beautiful for a boy, if they caught him without his glasses on, that is. (The doctor that had handed him over to the warden of the orphanage had said he didn't have any deformities, but as it turned out he did have one – poor eyesight, bad enough for him to have to wear glasses worse than the bottom of a beer bottle and forcibly toning down his natural good looks.)

Houki-senpai must have heard, and probably gotten jealous or something, since everyone had always said _she _was the most beautiful out of all the children until the upstart – a _boy _no less – grew old enough to lose his baby fat (even though there hadn't been much of that, either) so people could tell that he was pretty. Because for half a year the 12-year-old had been continuously picking on Saruhiko, and occasionally pinning the blame on _him_.

Like the time when Matron lost her gold watch and then it magically materialized under Saruhiko's pillow. (He was denied his dinner that day.)

Or when one of Houki-senpai's friends asked him to help her look for her earrings and he ended up getting locked outside. (And consequently questioned, and then punished because he didn't dare tell on her.)

Or even when the rains had come earlier than expected and his blanket constantly went missing especially when the nights were ice-cold. (They didn't get away with that one, because he ended up catching a cold and the guilty perpetrator had spilled the beans, feeling sorry for the physically weak boy.)

But none of those could compare to what the witch would do to him on his birthday.

* * *

It had been a birthday like any other at the orphanage, nothing fancy, just the same old chocolate cake where Saruhiko would get the biggest piece. The kids had just formed a circle around him, singing "Happy Birthday to you," when Matron bent down and patted him on the head. "That's another year of life for you, little one," she smiled. "May you have many more to come." It was something that she said to _every _kid who had a birthday, but for some reason hearing it being said to Saruhiko made it sting more for Houki.

Maybe Matron forgot to say it to her on _her _birthday, or something.

"Oh please," Houki had scoffed, "Why are you even celebrating, you little brat. Your mother didn't even want you."

That caught Saruhiko's attention. He had always been a very bright little boy, more intelligent than even the 15-year-old boy who was the oldest child in the home. By age 6 he'd already begun to wonder whom his real parents were, where they lived, and why they'd left him in that place. But, like many other orphans, he'd been too scared to ask the adults. After all, not knowing and pretending that his parents had been great people who had died unfairly was better than knowing and finding out that he hadn't been wanted.

But he didn't flinch. Saruhiko never made many expressions. "Was I abandoned?" he asked nonchalantly – a mistake, because if he had caused a scene or even _looked _the slightest bit upset Houki would've been contented to leave it at that. But his couldn't-care-less façade angered her even more, and she glared daggers at him. "Huh, you _wish_, you little runt. You weren't even good enough for _that_. Your mama tried to _kill _you on this very day!"

"HOUKI!" the stern reprimand from Matron made her shut up, but the damage had already been done.

Saruhiko's eyes widened and he ran out of the room, leaving behind an array of shocked expressions.

* * *

By the time Matron caught up with him it was already getting dark, because Saruhiko was _very good _at disappearing when he wanted to. She found him sitting alone by the small pond, fiddling with a Rubik's Cube like he usually did when he was upset. (He'd managed to solve the thing when he was 4 and a half. The wardens knew he'd be a boy genius.)

"Saruhiko?" Matron asked, coming up to sit with him. No reply, so she waited. He solved the puzzle before he spoke.

"Is it true?"

Matron gazed down at him with eyes full of sympathy. Ever since she'd heard the boy's story from the wardens she'd known a day would come when he would have to know the truth, but she didn't think it would be so soon. The pain of knowing that your own mother didn't want you was not something for a seven-year-old to have to bear. "Yes, child," came the hesitant reply, and then Matron tried to explain as best as she could exactly _what _abortion was and why people wanted to do it.

When she finished, he said nothing.

What was there to say? He'd just been told he was unwanted. And that too, on his birthday.

"Listen, Saruhiko…" Matron began, staring deep into those haunted blue eyes. "…This doesn't mean that your mother _hated _you. She just wasn't ready…to care for a child…"

Again, she was met with silence. The Rubik's Cube had already been disassembled and solved twice.

Eventually, he whispered a single sentence. "…I wish I'd died."

Matron swallowed thickly. She'd been warned by the wardens and doctors that the circumstances surrounding Saruhiko's birth would result not only in physical problems but mental and emotional as well. The boy had already started showing signs of depression a few months ago. This was the spark that lit the flame. Her heart went out to him, and she reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a surprise hug.

Saruhiko's eyes widened.

"Don't you _ever _say that again," Matron warned. "You are _special_. You are _loved_. And you are _my _child. If not by blood, then at least by my love for you…"

"But you take care of us," Saruhiko protested. "You _have _to love us. You _have _to love _everyone_."

Matron smiled and tapped his nose. "Well, I love _you _the most."

* * *

He'd actually believed it.

Saruhiko laughed mirthlessly, wondering how he'd _possibly _been tricked into actually believing that he was special in someone's life.

Because just a few hours ago, he'd overheard Matron comforting one of the younger kids who'd been bullied.

"I love you the most," she'd said.

Saruhiko bit his tongue to stop himself from crying, but the pain made his chest feel so heavy he almost couldn't breathe.

Matron had a big heart.

Enough to fit in everyone.

_Every One _of those children in the orphanage.

Not just _him_.

He didn't have even _one _person in the entire world who loved _him _the most.

* * *

_I __**hate **__people with big hearts the most._

* * *

**Review onegaishimasu~**


	4. Chrysalis

**AN: **Apologies for the late update! And I don't believe I've thanked the reviewers yet, have I? Thank you, all! Enjoy this next one! *Waves*

**WARNING: Sexual themes and references, but ONLY references and no actual action (which is why I didn't up the rating).**

* * *

Fushimi Saruhiko has a fear of contact. It's so extreme that he, a person who hates drawing attention to himself and using underhand means to get what he wants, actually used his position as Munakata's favorite to get himself a single room in the Scepter 4 dormitories – just so he won't have to wake up next to another person. He even wears his swimming trunks to an onsen. If any of his colleagues were to so much as accidentally _touch shoulders _with him, he'd spend an hour in the bathroom scrubbing that spot.

And there was a reason why.

**4**

**Chrysalis**

He was 9 when he got adopted, by a couple with a happy disposition.

"It's so hard to believe you're not a girl," the husband patted his head affectionately when he first saw him. "You really are very pretty."

The compliment made him blush, especially when the lady next to him agreed and knelt down to meet his eyes.

"You're going to have so much fun with us, Saruhiko," the wife assured him. "We're going to be your family now."

And Saruhiko smiled, because for once he actually felt _wanted_.

* * *

He _was _wanted, alright.

But not for the reasons he thought.

* * *

"Don't be afraid, Saruhiko-chan," his 'father' smirked at him, lasciviously licking his lips. "Daddy's not gonna hurt you. Come closer."

Saruhiko flinched. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what this man's touches meant; he knew how wrong it was to be touched like that. He also knew what would happen if he resisted.

Swallowing his fear, he took a step forward.

* * *

"You little _whore_," was the first thing his 'mother' said when he tried to tell her. "Do you really think I'm going to believe those lies!? Do you think I'm stupid!? That I'm not good enough to satisfy my own husband's needs, that he would turn to a filthy thing like you, huh!?" She'd dragged him by his hair and slapped him, but Saruhiko got the feeling that she knew it was true. She knew; but she wanted to deny it. She wanted to believe the man she loved wasn't like that. The slaps she was giving him were really aimed at her husband. Saruhiko knew, so he didn't protest.

"You've gotten full of yourself lately because of all the compliments you get," she yelled at him. "Because everyone says you're _so _pretty! Do you think looks are enough to seduce him, huh!?"

Saruhiko _knew_, but it still hurt.

It got to the point where there really was no denying it any more, what happened in her husband's bedroom. The lady of the house packed her bags and left, but not before wrapping her arms around Saruhiko and crying and apologizing – apologizing for hitting him, for not believing him, for having to leave him – but all Saruhiko noticed was that she wasn't promising him anything. She still loved the man, and obviously wouldn't give him up to the police.

Saruhiko noticed that he was beginning to notice more negatives than positives in _any _situation.

* * *

The touches grew more and more intense, and Saruhiko often yelled for him to stop, for someone, _anyone_, to come help him, but no one did.

All he got for it was punishments and cold, harsh truth.

The truth that there was no such thing as heroes.

That no one was going to save him. Ever.

* * *

"You see, I'm not that cruel," the smirking man whispered in his ear about a year later, when Saruhiko was bound to the bed and gagged and crying with no one to hear but this _filthy _man. "I'm not taking you without giving you anything in return. Oh no, little whores like you need to learn that virginity is a _very precious _thing," his smirk broadened, "and so I won't make you give it away for free. No, in fact, I'm gonna make you a deal."

He took the gag off so Saruhiko could answer, and the boy immediately took a gasping breath. "A 100 yen for every ten minutes you give me from now on," the man grinned. "You can use it to feed yourself, pay for school, buy clothes, I don't care. I'm not gonna pay for your expenses anymore." He pushed away the bangs from Saruhiko's face in a display of mock gentleness. "So think of it as a job, a way to keep yourself alive. Isn't that generous of me?"

Saruhiko only sobbed.

* * *

Most of the time he was out on the streets.

His 'father' drank more than usual lately, so he barely noticed when Saruhiko wouldn't come home. The boy would try as much as possible to prolong his time in school, and then just hang out in the streets doing whatever. He got raped once, in an alleyway, but it wasn't his first time so he didn't care. He didn't care about much of anything lately. The light in his eyes had long since died, and it would take a huge flame to re-light it. But, for now, that flame hadn't yet arrived, and he was alone.

He saved up some money and bought a couple of throwing knives that he'd gotten pretty good at using. It kept the thugs away from his body, and gave him some form of protection from the drug dealers and violent gangs trying to recruit him. Out here, the gangs had a way of doing things. Whenever their numbers were depleting for some reason, they'd corner any random boy on the street and 'draft' him. If he resisted, he would get killed.

A gang tried that once, with Saruhiko, and the leader got away with a stab wound.

He constantly felt filthy. Every chance he got he would either shower, or at the very least wash his hands at whatever faucet was available. The men in this place, this dreadful _Shizume-chou_, they only saw beauty as something to be used and abused. Saruhiko wished so badly that he could scar his own body just to get rid of that beauty, but his father would stop touching him if there was so much as a scratch on his face. And if he stopped touching him, then he would stop paying him.

Saruhiko didn't even know why he cared anymore.

It wasn't like he had any particular reason to continue surviving.

The money Saruhiko got from whoring himself to his father (because there really was no reason to sugarcoat it anymore) was barely enough to meet his needs. And what with all the times he refused to go home, he got to a point where he had to find another way to earn cash just so he could continue school. School was his ticket out of that place, the only way he could become something so he could save himself.

At 11 years old he'd learnt that no one else would do that for him.

And so began the thieving. Being born ambidextrous (something that his father had constantly abused), and with an uncanny knack of being practically invisible if he put on his ugly glasses and a hoodie, it wasn't that hard for him. He could've spent an entire day picking pockets from the same location and no one would even notice, let alone alert the police. And even if they did, the police wouldn't come, anyway. Law enforcement was a joke in Shizume-chou.

It was during one of these thieving sprees that he saw them.

A travelling troupe, some kind of small-scale circus, performing under the huge fountain near the mall. "They're all men, you know," a disgusted lady had whispered to her friend, and Saruhiko stared on in awe. He'd heard of okama – cross-dressers – before, and it didn't really bother him. So what if these 'men' had realized their true gender. They were probably more ladylike than the gossipy old hag in front of him.

They were _beautiful. _Dressed in multicolored costumes of all shapes and sizes, performing juggling acts and tightrope-walking and singing and dancing…Saruhiko was almost moved to tears. Most of the audience was, but a few spiteful ones did turn away after they found out about the okama thing. He watched them until the show was over, and even then lingered around the trailer wishing they would start again.

One of the ladies noticed him there, the one who had been telling people's fortunes using a bunch of tarot cards.

"Can I help you, little one?" she questioned, beckoning him closer.

Saruhiko hastily shook his head. "I was just leaving."

"Wait," she called just as he was about to walk away. "Come over here a minute. Let me read your fortune."

"But I don't have any money," Saruhiko blinked.

She only smiled and him and gave him a little wink. "On the house. For a…kindred spirit, I think?" she ended it as a question.

Saruhiko wondered if she meant being an okama, or living a hard life on the streets.

"Mm, I see a silver lining to your storm clouds, child," she said in a mysterious voice, gazing into Saruhiko's dead eyes. "That's right, Love is about to come your way. And it will be painful at first," she added, "but it will survive. Through all the storms it will survive. You just keep believing that," she paused, "but more importantly, little caterpillar, that Love will cause you to love _yourself_. And that will make you _grow_." She stopped, and gently pushed his bangs away from his face. "Little caterpillar, you're going to become a beautiful butterfly."

Saruhiko's eyes widened, and for a second a spark of hope ignited in them, then disappeared just as quickly. "Please," he shoved her away rudely. "Bunch of crap. You didn't even use your cards."

The okama gazed at him sadly. "I thought like you did too, once," she smiled. "You don't dare to hope yet. But the day will come, and then you'll believe me."

"Screw you," was the only thing Saruhiko replied with.

* * *

Thinking about the incident now always gave him a lump in his throat.

* * *

**Although I dislike the manner in which I wrote this chapter the most, please, leave a review. TT_TT**


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